Quotes About Connection

What feeling is so nice as a child's hand in yours So small, so soft and warm, like a kitten huddling in the shelter of your clasp.

He edged closer to his father's bones and sinews. Penny slipped an arm around him and he lay close against the lank thigh. His father was the core of safety. His father swam the swift creek to fetch back his wounded dog. The clearing was safe, and his father fought for it, and for his own. A sense of snugness came over him and he dropped asleep.

Penny's bowels yearned over his son. He gave him something more that his paternity. He found that the child stood wide-eyed and breathless before the miracle of bird and creature, of flower and tree, of wind and rain and sun and moon, as he had always stood. And if, on a soft day in April, the boy had prowled away on his boy's business, he could understand the thing that had drawn him. He understood, too, its briefness.

the human heart is allus the same. Sorrer strikes the same all over. Hit makes a different kind o' mark in different places.

He could understand that the creatures, the fish and the owls, should feed and frolic at moon-rise, at moon-down and at south-moon-over, for these were all plain marks to go by, direct and visible. He marvelled, padding on bare feet past the slat-fence of the clearing, that the moon was so strong that when it lay the other side of the earth, the creatures felt it and stirred by the hour it struck. The moon was far away, unseen, and it had power to move them.

Dogs could die, and bears and deer and other people. That was acceptable, because it was remote. His father could not die. The earth might cave in under him in one vast sink-hole and he could accept it. But without Penny, there was no earth. Without him there was nothing.

We cannot live without the Earth or apart from it, and something is shrivelled in a man's heart when he turns away from it and concerns himself only with the affairs of men

We were bred of earth before we were bred of our mothers. Once born, we can live without mother or father, or any other kin, or any friend, or any human love. We cannot live without the earth or apart from it, and something is shrivelled in a man's heart when he turns away from it and concerns himself only with the affairs of men.

He lay down beside the fawn. He put one arm across its neck. It did not seem to him that he could ever be lonely again.

I do not fear, for I am protected; I do not feel superior, for I know the cut of being judged. We are all human, in all the ways that matter—but one would not know that for all the ways we become blind to each other, for the smallest trivialities.

I'd never indulged in feelings of loneliness. Too dangerous. I'd learned that after my mother's murder. Loneliness could swallow you up, like a disease. Make you vulnerable to anything, even a smile. But then I'd stopped being lonely. And what was more dangerous? Loneliness? Or having friends and family who could be taken from you? "Grant

I met his gaze, but nothing else needed to be said. We both knew we were fucked.

You still have me , I heard inside my head; his deep, soft voice. No matter what. And I have you.

You're my wife," he replied, but behind those words, in his eyes, I knew what that really meant was, You're my friend, and I love you. The

Home is where you are loved the most and act the worst.

Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

The trouble with the world and the trouble with you and me is that we don't love each other enough. And if we do, we don't bother to show it, or we don't bother to say it. If the world is to know love, it has to be in your heart and in mine.

Mothers are endowed with a love that is unlike any other love on the face of the earth.

Sometimes, when I read a book, I miss the characters when I finish it. When I truly love a book, I read it slowly because I want to remain with those characters. I've experienced the same thing with TV shows and movies. There's no real difference between that and getting attached to a boy from your dreams.

People who have so much of their personality invested in the Internet can't really survive as whole individuals without it.

Language is the means of getting an idea from my brain into yours without surgery.

In a world where so many speak and don't hear, she is somebody who listens with her mind and hears with her heart.

she didn't care so much for things; instead, her heart yearned to see new places, and meet new people, she wanted experiences that would inspire her to become greater in spirit, to live as freely, as her heart loved.

she only showed her silly side to those she thought worthy.